My Tackle Box

When I was a kid my father would bring stuff home from work. Some stuff I did not like. Brut soap on a rope is one example of stuff I did not like. What girl wants to smell like Brut? Brut is a rude name; like Brutus, the bully on the Popeye cartoon. But once he brought home a treasure. He brought home a nail polish display of 30 to 50 colors of nail polish. There was black and red and gold and silver and bronze and orange and pinks bottles of nail polish. The display was on a plastic stand with two tiers to hold the bottles. I painted my fingernails. I painted my toenails. I painted my tackle box! And look what a cute face I put inside the tackle box. There is a girl with screw eyes and a flip hair do like Marlo Thomas on "That Girl." I had better take those lead sinkers to the hazardous waste drop off site. I want to be part of the solution; not part of the problem.

Check out the fish on the bottom! I must have been such a cute child.

 

Artistic Parking

Is this artistic parking or merely a precaution in case I have to barrel out of the driveway in case of a snowfall overnight?  I think it's cool enough to 1. take off my boots, 2. find the camera, 3. put the boots on again, and 4. take the camera outside and 5. adjust the contrast on the phot so it actually shows up and 6. post.  You decide.

Three Years Ago

Just three years ago I was in the land down under, eating Vegemite on my toast and driving on the other side of the road.  My trip to Australia was really fabulous and I wish I could do it again with my new hip and improved gait.  I doubt it would be nearly as grand as the first time though.  Australia has so many things to see.  I could spend weeks there and not even go to the same cities or roads.  It's the sixth largest country.  The nature there was fabulous but other countries have nature too and I might as well explore other parts of the world before returning to Australia.  Three years have gone by already.  Life goes fast sometimes.

Kiddy Pioneers of the Lake - Epilogue

The morning after we finished the historic hike around the lake, Danny, Donny and I went back to the dam. We were armed with a large landing net, a metal stringer, and a large pail. We were going fishing but without poles. The day was going to be hot and the heat beetles were already buzzing in the trees. We stood on top of the dam and looked down. The large northern pike were still there. We could see at least three big ones. The water was so low in the slough that their backs were practically out of the water. We climbed down the side of the dam and walked into the slough. The open water was near the bottom of the dam wall so that is where we went to get the fish. This was easier than shooting fish in a barrel. The poor pike had no place to escape us. We scooped one large northern and put it in the bucket. The fish was so large that if we had put it on the stringer, it’s tail would have dragged on the ground. People were going to be so impressed with us when we got back with this awesome load of fish! We were just scooping up the second fish when we heard a voice behind us. Uncle Leo said, “What you are doing here is against the law, it’s poaching.” We froze. How did he sneak up on us like this? Maybe if we didn’t move this wasn’t happening. Uncle Leo was a little scary. He wasn’t a kindly sort of uncle that kids our age could talk to. Uncle Leo was the kind of uncle who, when you were watching him milk the cows, would send you up to the farm house to ask his wife for a “tit wrench.” We naïve children would do what he asked, causing Aunt Helen to start sputtering in German. We didn’t understand what she was saying but we understood she wasn’t too happy with him. He thought that was hilarious. Uncle Leo was also the kind of uncle who would offer your two-year-old little sister a piece of plug tobacco and ask her, “Do you want some chocolate?” That forced you to protect her by leading her away by the hand and doing that didn’t earn you any popularity points with the little tyke. So when Uncle Leo said we were breaking the law, we knew we were in trouble. What happened next? Did we put the northerns back in the slough? Did we dump them into the lake? I would like to think we put them back in the lake but I honestly don’t remember. I only know we didn’t carry any fish when we walked back to the cabins from the dam. We learned a lesson that day.

Kiddy Pioneers of the Lake - Part Three

We finished our lunch and got on our feet. Hiking the south shore of Block Lake is difficult. The glacial moraine that forms the lake border is very steep. The mature basswood trees that grow on the hill have been sentinels since before Minnesota was a state. This land has never been harvested of wood nor farmed. Once in a while we would be lucky to find a deer trail that made walking slightly easier. Even the deer didn’t have what it took to walk close to the shore because their trails all angled uphill. Danny, Donny and I tromped along in silence. Eventually we came to the sand bar. The sand bar was a local hangout. High school aged farm kids would carpool to the resort and take a white rowboat with turquoise trim to the sandbar. With two sets of oars propelling a 14-foot wooden boat full of kids, they crossed the lake in no time. Oh, they looked like they were having fun. I longed to be part of a group like that when I got older. We always wondered what drew them to this spot. What did they do over here? Usually they stayed at the sand bar for an hour or two before rowing back. We couldn't see them from our cabins because they were so far away. The fact they could not be seen was probably the entire point of their journey. The sand bar made a nice swimming beach. We looked around but could not find any sign of teens being here – no trash, no bottles, no cigarette butts, no chairs, no campfire remains. Were these farm kids the creators of the “Leave No Trace” camping ethic? We didn’t linger very long at the sand bar. We wanted to dispel the lonely feelings we got from looking at our resort. The three lake pioneers resumed the march. Fern frond and basswood branches got in our way. We didn’t hold the branches for the person behind us. We just walked far enough apart that branches wouldn’t hit us. Danny was still a little grumpy about the short cut we didn’t take at Petey’s Bay. The old forest basswoods grew on such a steep slope that the trunks came out at all different angles. Granite boulders made walking so difficult we thought about walking in the lake instead. Out past the giant boulders in the lake we could see rocks under a couple feet of clear water. We had heard this side of the lake had drop-offs. Drop offs scared us. We listened to adults talk about drop offs and describe them as huge dangers. The three of us could swim but it never occurred to me that our swimming ability would lessen the danger of a drop off. The sharp slope of the hill continued the descent under the surface of the lake. Some of the rocks were as large as softballs. We’d have to take our shoes off to walk in the lake. Once in a while we’d have to swim around or climb over a tree trunk. Bass were probably hiding under those trees. We decided to stick to the land. My gait was off. My right foot was always higher than my left foot because of the slope. Sometimes my right foot was a little higher and other times it was 12 inches higher than my left. My ankles were tired of stabilizing my body weight at an angle. I was itchy and sweaty and tired of walking. We were getting a little bit grouchy so it was best we walked in silence. We weren’t quite sure but we thought it might be getting dark soon. We had been at this so long. The landscape changed. The hill went around a corner to the north and we were faced with a very wet trail. Ahead of us the tree trunks were submerged in water about a foot deep. We didn’t want to walk through this. We followed the dry land away from the shoreline for 50 feet. The situation was not any better. Everything around here was wet and each step we took away from the lake only added to our journey. We made the decision to walk through this submerged area with our socks and tennis shoes on. The water seemed a little bit stagnant. Black lake beetles scattered in circular patterns in front of us on top of the water. Under the water we could see schools of baby bullheads darting away. This part of the journey was hard even for us lake pioneers. We knew the other cabins couldn’t be too far away. The resort on the north side of the lake was always referred to as the other cabins. Once we got to that resort we would be back on gravel road again. Walking on the gravel road would be a picnic compared to this. This watery place had to be loaded with leeches. We slogged along walking between the dying basswood trees, unable to see through the forest. Now we were at a point where we couldn’t see the lake either. We heard red-winged blackbirds calling. Gradually the water got shallower. The trees grew farther apart. Clumps of cattails were visible. We could hear voices! We exchanged smiles because we knew we were near the other resort. We were going to make it out alive! We pushed our way through the bulrushes, separating them with our arms before stepping ahead. Finally we reached a lawn. We lay down on the mown grass and spread our limbs in the sun. It felt so good to rest. We were at the other resort. We had heard about this place but never been here before. Adults told us it wasn’t as nice as our resort. This resort had a dreaded drop-off. Kids could die at this resort by walking into the drop off. At our resort we had a sandy or muddy, gradual slope. The worst that could happen was leeches attaching to the thin skin between our toes. Getting tiny brown leeches between the toes was not unusual for me. I liked to swim under the dock where the leeches hung out. I’d pull at the leeches between my toes and the leech body would stretch and snap back out of my fingers. Sometimes I couldn’t get them off without sprinkling salt on them. Once the leeches were off, the bleeding continued for quite some time. Now that we were here at the other resort, it didn’t seem so bad. Kids were playing and they looked to be having a better time than we were. Some kids were swimming. The swimmers seemed to be having a good time despite the drop off. People were fishing off the dock. Boats were heading out for fishing. We knew we didn’t belong there so we walked quickly between the cabins to the driveway and back to the lake road and walked north. Our wet socks and the sand in our shoes irritated our feet. We were almost home. We could see our cabins get closer with every step. The walking was so easy. The lake road was low to the water at the beginning and we threw rocks into the lake as we walked. We saw some boats out fishing. Two boats were anchored near the island. The island hadn’t been visible for many years because the lake level rose and covered it. But we knew the invisible island was two thirds of the way across the lake closer to the other resort. Depth finders were not available yet so we used black heavy weights with a clamp on the top pinched on the end of our line. If our weight hit bottom at 4 or 5 feet, we knew we were above the island. Walleyes hung out there. Another boat was off the point. One was trolling in Petey’s Bay. We could see a boat way across the lake over by the dam. The closest boat was just off shore from us. Uncle Joe was trolling for walleyes. We waved at him as we walked along. We walked along as the road rose up 20 feet from the level of the lake. The hill on our right got steeper too and continued downhill under the water. This end of the lake held the deepest water. We passed a road sign that indicated a curve ahead. The sign showed evidence of target practice. Shots on target created shallow dents all over the sign. Now scrubby trees grew on the bank between the lake and us. Wild roses, sumac and raspberry canes held the soil to the slope. We wondered what time it was. We knew it had to be past suppertime but before bedtime. We quickly made it to the stop sign. On this northeast corner of the lake the water was very shallow. The water was no more than five feet deep for a long way out and full of lily pads. Some birches lined the rocky shore. We could have walked along the shore but didn’t. We preferred the gravel road. As we turned left, our Uncle Leo’s dairy farm was on the right. The field between the road and his house was planted in long, straight rows of corn this year. A few leopard frogs crossed the road as we walked along. Normally we would catch them. Uncle Joe would give us a dollar for a dozen leopard frogs. But lake pioneers don’t have the time or the energy for such enterprise. Our wet socks were rubbing sores on our feet and we were tired. We could hear the water tricking into the lake from the creek. We happily turned into the public access so we could take the side road that led to our resort. We made it. We completed our journey around the lake. To our dismay, the other kids including our siblings were not that excited to see us return. They were busy playing. They hardly looked up at us. We expected more acclaim. Donny and Danny returned to their cabin where Aunt Evelyn stood waiting. “Are you guys back? Did you have a nice walk?” Walk? Walk! We didn’t go for a walk! We hiked around the entire lake. We went on an adventure journey! We were lake pioneers! Donny asked if he could have supper. The three lake pioneers were shocked to hear that supper wasn’t for five hours yet, she had just finished the lunch dishes. The time was 12:30. Despite the early return and the frustration of taking the long way at Petey’s Bay, it was still an adventure; we were lake pioneers. Tomorrow - the epilogue

Kiddy Pioneers of the Lake - Part Two

Once we got past the dam, we had no roads to follow. Our plan was to keep the lake on our left. On our right was a thick, mosquito-infected, virgin basswood forest on a very steep hill. Large granite boulders dotted the shoreline. Some of these boulders were as large as cars. I was the oldest so I took the lead. We found sticks in the forest to use as hiking canes. We started off. Branches slapped our faces and raspberry canes scratched our legs. For safety, we had to keep our eyes down for every step. Some fallen trees were easy to step over. Some trees had not fallen all the way to the ground so we could crawl under their trunks. Other trees had to be crawled over or walked around. The hill on our right got so steep there was no way to ascend it. Sometimes it was a little easier to walk three or four feet away from the shoreline, but not here. We disturbed a great blue heron and it flapped away in silence. Even though I was hot I wished I had worn long pants instead of the shorts I had on. My cousins wore their typical "Leave It To Beaver" clothes - cut off jeans with short-sleeved t-shirts with wide, colorful horizontal stripes. We hoped there wasn't poison ivy on this side of the lake. After an hour or so of hiking through the forest, we stopped having fun. We stopped to rest and reconsider. Were we halfway done yet? Would it be closer to go back the way we came or to proceed? We looked out at the lake while slapping the mosquitoes landing on our arms and the ants on our legs. Three painted turtles were sunning themselves on a tree trunk. One by one, the turtles plopped into the water and swam away. We thought we would be able to see our cabins by now. Although we could see the point and the northeast corner of the lake, the cabins were not in view. We got up and kept going. Being a lake pioneer was hard work. Although we did not know it at the time, we had come to the spit of land that marked the beginning of Petey's Bay. Eventually we could see our cabins; four little white houses in a row with turquoise trim. One larger white cabin sat on a hill above the fish cleaning hut. East of the cabins but before the public access sat a turquoise trailer home. Stoney Point resort looked attractive from over here; safe and comfortable. The sight of it inspired us to keep going so we could be back there. We walked another half hour before stopping to finish our lunch. Danny had to go to the bathroom. For privacy he hiked uphill. The hill was shorter here and he went over the crest. He came back as mad as a hornet. "Right there!" he shouted at us pointing up the hill, "We were right there an hour ago!" Donny and I went up and looked. Sure enough, here was a spot we remembered sitting at a very long time ago and it was just a few feet away. How could that be? Walking the perimeter of the lake on the spit of land that formed Petey's Bay was the long way. We could have saved a lot of time, mosquito bites, and steps if we had known to just hike over this little hill. Such is the life of a lake pioneer. If we had walked around the lake before we would have known that. To be continued.

Kiddy Pioneers of the Lake - Part One

Every year my family would rent a cabin at my uncle's resort in northwestern Minnesota. Stoney Point resort had five cabins, one large swimming dock, a fish-cleaning house, and an assortment of wooden boats. Block Lake wasn't very large (about 260 acres) and not very deep (23 feet at most) but it was our lake. The cabins were on the north side of the lake. I can't remember if we had our vacation in July or August but I do know we went the same week every year. Other vacationers took the same week and we could expect to see them. My Uncle Joe, his wife Evelyn and their five boys would be there too. One summer, when I was about ten years old, my cousins Danny and Donny and I decided to walk all the way around the lake. To us this seemed very momentous. We had never walked around the lake before. We had walked to the dam and back. We had walked to the other cabins and back. But we had never hiked the whole lake. We had never heard of anyone doing that before. We weren't sure if we could finish the hike in one day or if we'd have to spend a night in the woods before we got home. This was new territory for us. We were going to be pioneers of the lake. We told our parents about our plan because we needed supplies and permission. I packed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in a bag with an apple. Aunt Evelyn packed what I thought was a nicer bag of supplies with Fritos corn chips, sandwiches, Hostess cupcakes and Freezies. Freezies are intensely flavored juices packed in a plastic tube and frozen. I think of Evelyn every time I see a Freezie because she was still offering and I was still accepting them 30 years later. I carried the bag and we started our trek, unsure of what day we would return. We planned to go counter clockwise on the lake so the hard part would be over with first. The second half of our journey would be on gravel road. We left the cabins and walked down the driveway to the gravel county road. Turning left we walked for a couple blocks passing corn fields and sheep pastures belonging to our Uncle Leo, owner of the resort. We took another left on the road to the dam. This dam road wasn't really a road; more of a dirt path for tires with grass growing in the middle. The sun was shining and the walking was easy so far. Dragonflies and grasshoppers clung to the grasses at our sides. Swallows swooped in the skies above us. We reached the dam on the east end of the lake. The lake level was low at this time of the year and no water flowed over the dam. The cement dam had a three foot iron gate on top. We stood on the concrete and held onto the iron gate as we side-stepped across. Cattails crowded this end of the lake and we couldn't see above them. In the slough on the other side of the dam we could see several northern pike swimming. Our eyes widened to see such big northerns. One of them looked to be at least a four pounder. The fish had probably been carried over the dam in the spring and couldn't get back into the lake. We agreed it would be a shame to let it go to waste. We decided to come back and get it another day. Although it was probably only 8 o'clock, we thought we would eat some of our lunch now. That way we wouldn't have to carry it and we would need our strength. The easy walking was over. (to be continued)